


The Universal Truth of Karkats

by dedicatedfollower467



Series: Less than Ultimate, More than Final [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Dave and Karkat are in a relationship that doesn't fit neatly into any one troll quadrant, M/M, Multiple Selves, Non-Quadrant Karkat, Not Canon Compliant, Panic Attacks, Post Act 7 (Homestuck), Quadrant Confusion, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, The Homestuck Epilogues can go fuck themselves, Troll Romance (Homestuck)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 17:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21342250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedicatedfollower467/pseuds/dedicatedfollower467
Summary: The universal truth of Karkat Vantas is that no one hates Karkat Vantas more than Karkat Vantas does.What is the "Ultimate Self" of a person who's died a million times or more?
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Series: Less than Ultimate, More than Final [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538557
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	The Universal Truth of Karkats

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! This is an alternate POV/continuation of my previous fic "All the Memories of All Our Lives," as told from the point of view of Karkat. I would recommend reading that fic before this one, as it sets up the way the Ultimate Self works in this AU.
> 
> This fic is not compliant with the credits sequence, Epilogues, or Homestuck 2, as the whole premise was started immediately after Act 7 was released.
> 
> Also a word of warning: this fic is going to be *very* sporadic in its updates, as I write fic verrrrry slowly and I skip around in fandoms a lot. If you don't want to wait a year or more for this fic to be complete, then click away now! This fic is not for you.

The universal truth of Karkat Vantas is that no one hates Karkat Vantas more than Karkat Vantas does.

Which means, when you walk through the door and literally thousands of different versions of yourself pour into your thinkpan, it sets your teeth grinding. Because who the fuck are these fuckers, who think that they’re you?

You feel your hackles rise and your hair stand on end, but _screw you Other Karkats_, you’ve stood up to Past Karkat, who’s an ignorant dumbass, and Future Karkat, who’s an arrogant fucker, you’re not gonna let a thousand sub-par shitty Dead Karkats make you even remotely stumble.

One memory hits you, more strongly than the rest - maybe only because _that _Karkat is so much closer to you than the one who got murdered by Gamzee before the game even started, or the one who died and went god tier and apparently had a fling with Nepeta? (Which uh. Okay then, Other Karkat, that sure was a choice you made. A terrible choice, but a choice nonetheless you guess? You kinda wonder how long _that _clusterfuck of a matespriteship managed to last. You don’t have to wonder, of course, you could just instantly remember, but fuck _that_, you don’t even want to _think _about being that guy.)

But anyway, the memory that washes over you, that subsumes any thought of keeping it spitefully outside of your own identity, is of dying in burning agony as you sink into a pit of lava, hearing Terezi screaming your name, and knowing that this is it, you were a shitty moirail, Gamzee finally went shithive fucking maggots, and this is the end.

_Jegus fuck_, you think to yourself, as you let out a breathless grunt that sounds kind of like a half-awed “Oh.” You really wish it didn’t sound so damn _admiring_, because seriously _fuck _Other Karkat.

There are other memories clawing for attention, but you are Karkat fucking Vantas, and you are nothing if not capable of completely dismissing anything that any other version of yourself tries to tell you. You glance back at Dave and his brother both hesitant on the threshold, and shout “What the fuck are you waiting around there for?”

The two of them step through the door and then Dave collapses.

You’re at his side, mumbling comforting nonsense, before you’ve even consciously registered the thought _panic attack_.

You don’t touch him, because touching Dave when he’s like this is a good way to get him to lash out, make you bleed, and send you off in a spiral of your own. You know this from painful experience. So even though your romantic instincts are screaming that you should pap your moirail, you keep your hands to yourself. Luckily you can do all the shooshing you want.

When the other humans crowd too close you snap at them to back off, and to your utter surprise they do. That gives you time to focus on your shuddering matesp— moi— boyf— your shuddering _human_.

You don’t know why this is apparently affecting him so much. He’s told you a little bit about the various timelines he knows about and frankly, he shouldn’t have as many as you. Dave and Terezi were _smart _about timeline creation, unlike the Megidos, which is why there are legions of dead trolls in the bubbles and only like, a couple versions of any given human at best.

But then, he’s always been so much better at listening to his other selves than you. Even when he was keeping secrets from himself.

You wonder what it would be like, to think of the thousands of other Karkats and all of their deaths and suffering as being a part of _you_.

When he finally stops shaking, buries his face in your lap and clutches you around the middle with a desperate grip that doesn’t feel like it will let up anytime soon, a spark of relief ignites in your pump biscuit. You stroke his hair the way you’ve been longing to since he fell and sigh.

Then John is there, laying a hand on Dave’s shoulder, and part of you wants to snarl at him, to shout _back off, he’s mine! _But the gesture seems to comfort Dave, and he looks up as John asks “Hey, you all right?”

Dave scrubs at his face, wiping away the oddly clear tears you’ve always found hard to see trailing over his skin. “Yeah.” His voice sounds like it took a serious beating, and it makes you want to clutch him all the harder. He starts again. “It was just a lot to take in.”

Under his stupid shades, you can tell he’s not looking either of you in the eye. It makes you want to shake him. It makes you want to hold him close and make sure he’s really okay.

Dave’s clear sense of embarrassment eventually turns out to be enough to get the others to disperse, leaving you and him sitting by the door. He hasn’t made any motions to get up, seeming exhausted and content to lie in your lap. Your leg is starting to go numb but honestly you couldn’t care less.

“Hey,” you ask finally, still threading your claws gently through his pale hair. “Are you really okay?”

Dave laughs, the weak, self-deprecating laugh you’ve come to associate with the times he’s not-really-joking about some hidden insecurity that he doesn’t want to talk about. “Nah,” he says, reaching up to pat your face, “But I will be, so shoosh, you.”

“Your papping technique continues to be atrocious,” you inform him, even as a swell of warm fondness fills you.

“Shut up,” he says, and you hope that maybe, in this new world, things will turn out okay.


End file.
